


Day 3: Kitchen Disaster

by GemmaRose



Series: FMA Rarepair Week 2017 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Baking, F/M, Fluff, Xerxes | Cselkcess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: She never expected to meet the prince, let alone be asked to teach him something, but who is she to deny him his request?





	Day 3: Kitchen Disaster

“Good morning.”

Trisha startled at the low voice, dropping the container of flour into the mixing bowl with a squeak. She whirled around, more flour flying from her measuring cup as she raised it in self-defense, and stopped cold at the sight that greeted her. Prince Hohenheim, hair pulled back in a low ponytail instead of the intricate braids he and his elder twin brother wore every day and dressed in what passed for simple clothing in the Xerxian courts. He blinked, and looked down at the spray of white powder which covered his upper chest.

“I suppose it’s not quite morning yet, is it?” he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “My apologies for startling you.” his eyes were the same warm gold as his hair, proof of his pure ancestry, and Trisha realized she was meeting his gaze.

“No, Your Highness. The fault is mine.” she ducked her head, giving him her best curtsy. “I apologise for dirtying your robes.”

“What, these old things?” Prince Hohenheim chuckled. “They’ll be cleaned later today anyways. Don’t trouble yourself about it.”

“If you say so, Your Highness.” she said slowly. Why was he here? The Princes had no business in the kitchen, if either of them had a request they simply sent one of their servants to relay it. She itched to ask, but held her tongue. He was the Prince, he could do as he wished. She was just a servant, barely a step above a slave, his motivations were none of her business.

“Could you show me how to make bread?” he asked, and Trisha couldn’t keep the surprise off her face. “I’m studying organic chemistry, and the reactions of baking are as good a place to start as any.” he continued, dusting off the front of his tunic.

“Of course, Your Highness.” she said quickly, finally remembering that he expected an answer. “But, if I may...” he cocked his head to the side, and she bit her lip a moment before continuing. “The Head Chef is far more knowledgable than I. Your interests would be better served by asking him.”

“I tried.” Hohenheim smiled wryly. “Unfortunately, my brother has terrified him of both of us.”

Trisha didn’t doubt that one bit. Crown Prince Theophrastus’s temper was legendary amongst the servants, as were the punishments he set on people who displeased him. She had lost more than one friend to chains when they happened upon him in a foul mood.

“So.” Hohenheim drew her attention back to the present. “What are you making here?” he gestured at the bowl, now surrounded by flour.

“Oh, nothing, now.” Trisha grimaced, turning to look into the bowl as Prince Hohenheim stepped up to the counter at her side. She’d certainly be getting an earful about wasting ingredients later. “It was supposed to be sweet rolls, but there’s too much flour in the mix. Give me a moment to throw it out, Your Highness, and you can watch me make another batch.”

“Oh, perhaps I could help.” Prince Hohenheim placed a hand on the edge of the bowl before she could lift it. “I have my chalk, I can transmute the flour into a separate mass so you can take it out and re-measure.”

“If you wish, Your Highness.” Trisha stepped aside, and watched as the prince pulled a stick of plain white chalk from his pocket. He scooted the bowl away from the edge of the counter and drew a large circle around it, which he then filled with geometric shapes. She watched curiously as he inscribed symbols along the lines, occasionally rubbing one out with his thumb and redrawing it slightly different. After a minute of work, he set aside the chalk and rubbed his hands together.

“Ever seen an alchemist as work?” he asked, glancing over at her. She shook her head. Alchemy was for scholars, not servants. “Don’t watch too closely, it’s going to be bright.” Prince Hohenheim warned with a smile. He pressed his hands to the counter just outside the circle, and the chalk lines crackled with blue lightning. Trisha gasped at the display, looking from the shifting contents of the bowl to the prince’s smiling face, illuminated in brilliant blue. Abruptly, his smile fell, and what felt like a split second later Trisha felt herself being lifted from the floor.

“Are you alright?”

She groaned, opening her eyes slightly. Prince Hohenheim was kneeling over her, one arm behind her shoulders to hold her off the floor, his entire front covered with pale powder. Trisha squeaked, and the prince looked- worried?

“Apologies. I forgot to account for the bowl itself and, well... let’s just say it wasn’t my brightest idea.” he gestured at her workspace with his free hand as he helped her sit up. It looked like a disaster zone, dry ingredients plastered across the backsplash, overhead cabinets, counter, and floor. The bowl had split clean in two, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Forget being scolded, she was going to be _fired_ over this.

“Don’t worry, though.” Prince Hohenheim said quickly, waving his hands in front of himself. “I can fix the bowl, and when the head chef arrives I’ll explain that the mess is my fault, not yours. It’s not like he can get me in trouble for it.”

Trisha couldn’t help it, she stared. “You would do that?” she asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Well, yes.” Prince Hohenheim looked confused, for some reason. “One of my old tutors always said that a good man owns up to his mistakes and makes them right. Is that not how it’s done in lower classes?”

“No. I mean, yes, it is, Your Highness. It’s just-” she nearly bit her tongue, closing her mouth around the rest of that sentence. Speaking ill of higher classes where they could hear was a quick way to earn a punishment.

“Most members of the court aren’t as considerate?” Hohenheim smiled, his hand resting on her lower back. Trisha nodded slowly.

“Well, none of them are here.” he stood, and turned to the counter. “I can fix the bowl while you collect the ingredients again.” he said, pulling another stick of chalk from his pocket, this one longer and crisp-edged.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Trisha said quickly, scrambling to her feet and bowing to him. “I will do my best to teach you what I know of baking.”

“You’re welcome.” Hohenheim smiled at her over his shoulder. Trisha headed towards the pantry, brushing powder from her clothes as she went. As long as the prince didn’t cause any more explosions, she just might be able to get all the breakfast breads made before the rest of the morning shift arrived.


End file.
